Handle With Care
by browneyesonly4
Summary: Sequel to 'To Be Honest'. Special Delivery! Non-graphic; some description. What would Tony do if he were looking into the eyes of his baby? Rated-T for some language.
1. Lovelihead

_A/N: Hello, once again...The day we've all been waiting for! Um..not really. But Ziva and Tony have been. I was struck with inspiration yesterday. I had to start it. And then, I finished it. Will y'look at that? **::silly grin::** I hope you enjoy Tony...And Gibbs...And Ziva. Oh my! Love, Kat._

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I don't own NCIS, but I definitely own this story-line and the baby. Well, no, I don't own the baby, either. But...you get the picture._

* * *

"_Oh my God,_" I wail as pressure continues down my spine and pelvis. No classes could have ever possibly prepared me for this. Granted, then it was not for real, and now I am actually laying in a bed bringing a fragile life into the world, but that is beside the point.

I am not making sense. "_Leazeazel!_" I shout, mostly out of frustration. "Why can I not have pain relievers or something? Please? Tony," I pant, and then feel a cloth dabbing at my forehead. I glance over and Tony has a towel clutched tightly in one hand, and my hand in his other.

"Ziva," he murmurs, "do you think you could maybe—um—let go _just_ a bit?"

I stare at him murderously. This _is_ all his fault, of course, and he deserves my glare. "Not until I get some sort of pain reliever."

"Your epidural's coming, Zeev," he states, again dabbing at my forehead. "But just think about—"

"Think about _what_?" I snap. The pain begins to dissolve and I am simply uncomfortable. Letting out a sigh of relief, I turn to Tony and say, "The fact we are bringing a new life into existence?" He nods. "Oh, Tony, if I had known it would feel like _this_ I would have never signed on."

Tony looks at me in shock and I make what is probably a very ugly face. At this point, however, I do not care. I have been on bed-rest for a month and a half, with neighbors checking on me every now and then during the day; Abby or McGee—with the occasional addition of Gibbs—would come see me at night. Tony would be there every night and every morning, doting on my every whim. I was a queen for four weeks. And now? I want it done. Over. I want to hold my baby in my arms and forego the pain. I feel like some sort of anim—

_"AH!_" I shout in pain, gripping Tony's hand so hard that, for a fleeting moment, I worry that I will break it. Unfortunately, my focus is predominantly on two things.

The ripping sensation going through my body, and the fact I'm giving birth. I am fairly certain that the two go hand-in-hand. Of course, who am I to say that? This is my first child.

"Give me a_ damn _epidural," I demand, crunching forward under the duress of the pain shooting across my abdomen. As the contraction fades, I relax back into pillows, knowing I look like Hell and waving Tony's hand away when he tries to daub my temple. "Please? I know I said early that I did not want one, but I have changed my mind." The nurse nods and walks over to a cabinet on the far side of the room.

"I'm going to ask you to gently and slowly turn onto your left side," she says slowly. Her voice is very soothing, deep and almost gravelly. Tony stands and helps roll me over and I breathe as I adjust to the new position. "Alright, Ziva, now you'll feel something cold as I sanitize the area, and then a pinch." _Right she is_, I think to myself, squeezing my partner's hand as I feel the needle pierce my skin.

"Is it … is it done now?" I ask, my voice barely above the whisper. "Oh, good. That is much better." I sigh. "Mm." My next contraction—five minutes later—draws nothing more than a wince. "I—_hee hee—_am—_hoo hoo_—never—_hee hee—_having—_hoo hoo_—sex—_hee hee_—again—_hoooooooo…_"

A tall man in a blue gauzy coat comes in and pulls a chair over to the end of my hospital bed. "Hello, Ziva," he greets me, his eyes smiling over his surgeon's mask. "How are we today?"

"_We_," I repeat, "are sick of the pain." On second thought…"I just had an epidural, though, and I think perhaps that helped. I just feel like something is pushing on my back."

Doctor Steinman chuckles. "Well, Ziva, something _is_ pushing against your back." He turns to Tony, who is tracing small circles on the back of my hand. "Now, Dad, you've seen her through to this point. As far as we know there haven't been any complications so far. But once we put up the sheet, I highly suggest you don't look past it."

"No disrespect," Tony tells him, shooting both of us a charming grin, "But, I know what it looks like."

The doctor shakes his head, letting out another small laugh. "You may think you know the anatomy but you don't. You'll be confused, amazing, and—I guarantee—very disgusted."

"Oh, no…Dr. Steinman, I was referring to the childbirth process…Human Sexuality in college." My partner winces. "Probably not the best class to take on a full stomach sometimes."

Dr. Steinman smiles and checks his pager. "Well, we'll get you set up in here. Keep giving her ice chips, and then I'll come back in about fifteen minutes and we'll get the ball rolling!" Clasping his hands together in front of him, he winks. "You're in good hands, Ziva. This is a scary moment in your life but you're ready for it." With that, he rolls away from the bed, stands, and leaves the room.

I glance up at Tony, partly in fear and partly in excitement. We decided to just raise the child ourselves. I have seen the risks of setting up an adoption opportunity after birth. Once you actually go through labor, dispel the child from you, and hold him or her, the bond between you has already been created. Or, perhaps it would be better to phrase it as 'reinforced,' since the second conception begins, you are bonded together and the emotions just grow stronger as the pregnancy progresses. And while I do not know the gender, since we decided to wait, I am already attached.

"You're doing great, Zeev," he murmurs, and kisses my head. "Another hour or so and you'll be a mom."

"I am already a mother."

"In theory, yeah, but I mean …" At my warning stare, he quickly silences himself instead focuses his attention on scooping me another glass of ice chips. "Here you go."

"_Hooo_," I breathe, closing my eyes. I feel a shift in my stomach followed by acute pressure to my lower spine and grip Tony's hand.

_We are in it for the long run. Haul? Run. OW._

* * *

She thinks she looks like shit…but she looks beautiful to me. Absolutely gorgeous. The fact that she's bringing my child into the world…I can't even imagine.

I am speechless as the entire process takes place. Lots of pushing, lots of bone-crushing hand-holding, and, of course, the usual screaming. I feel horrible and wish some of the pain could've been alleviated somehow, but there's nothing I can do.

It's a girl. A bloody…purple-esque…goopy little girl. _My_ little girl. No; _our_ little girl. Ziva's and my little girl. I blink and sniff away tears as she's handed to Ziva, who cradles the baby as though it were second nature. And, in a way, I suppose it _is_ second nature. Maternal instinct and all.

Then, when she's taken away, Ziva makes the typical signs of protest; glare, whimpers, repeated usage of the word 'but' and of course the outstretched arms.

"We're just going to clean her up and give her right back. Promise," the same nurse from before tells Ziva, smiling. "You did a great job, sweetie. But now you should probably get a bit of sleep, too." While I can tell my partner wants anything _but_ sleep, her eyes droop and her head falls back onto the pillow. She is sound asleep in a matter of seconds.

I just sit there in complete awe, staring at the woman who just delivered my daughter, and who would be raising her for the rest of our lives.

Fifteen minutes later, Nurse Mindy comes back in with our baby and, seeing that Ziva is dead to the world, encourages me to hold her. I hesitantly agree and, after much reassurance from Mindy that I'm not going to drop her or her neck isn't going to snap, I settle back into the chair and stare down into the face of my child.

Her eyes flutter open and sparkling blue eyes stare up at me. Granted, her eyes may in fact be brown. But I remember reading something in a book that Abby bought Ziva about genetics that said all babies are born with blue eyes, and then they change to whatever gene they've got in their DNA. I silently pray that her eyes are brown, like Ziva's.

But when Baby's baby blues lock with mine, my breath is taken away and all conscious thought ceases. She's so beautiful, in every way. And the fact that she was created from one cell—or, rather, two ingredients forming one mass cell—makes her that much more incredible. Just the fact she's both of us combined…I can see so much of Ziva's face in her tiny one, especially the nose and mouth. And the thick brown-black hair on her precious little head is enough to tell me she'll be a bit of a handful someday.

Baby blinks up at me and then yawns. I shift my arms slightly and wince, assuming she will start crying. Instead, she just raises her eyebrows at me. I can't suppress my chuckle. "Oh, Baby, you _are_ your mother's child, aren't you?" I whisper, running my hand gently over her hair.

"Part you, too, DiNozzo," Gibbs raspy voice says from behind me. I turn just my head to look up at him.

"Hey, Boss," I say, keeping my voice just as low as before.

"Ziva's out." He walks around the bed and stands next to our teammate on the other side.

I nod. "She's had a tough day."

"Yup."

"She was a trooper, though."

"I can imagine."

"Gibbs?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo?"

"Her name's Carmyn. Or, at least, it was when we were talking about names. It's Hebrew, but it kind of sounds Italian."

"Perfect combination," Gibbs says, nodding and brushing a stray lock of hair off of Ziva's forehead. "How long's she gonna be out?"

I shrug. "Twelve weeks."

"Well, she can't bring her to work." He stares down at Ziva and lets out a soft sigh. "So, if you ever need help, just call." Gibbs blinks a couple of times—in quick succession, so I know he's trying not to remember Kelly—and then looks up at me. "We all want to help, Tony."

Smiling, I reply, "Thanks. It's been quite the ride, hasn't it?" He nods. A thought strikes me. "I'm moving in with Ziva for a little while, just to help out."

"Her house baby-proofed?"

"Yep. I went through with Ducky a few days ago and went a little nuts with the locks and gates and stuff." I catch Carmyn staring at me and kiss her forehead. "It's so weird. I always dreaded having children, and now here I am, holding my newborn daughter."

"Kind of unreal, isn't it?" Gibbs agrees, taking a seat in the chair next to me. "And, it's with Ziva." I just smile. "Your arms tired, DiNozzo?"

I nod, kind of surprised at how heavy Carmyn is. "Yeah, actually…I should probably give her back to the nu—" I'm cut off when Gibbs gently takes her from my arms and cradles her in his. "—rse."

There's a softness to Gibbs that I haven't seen in a while. But there's not a doubt in my mind, even when he's pissed beyond belief, that he would have been an amazing father.

* * *

_A/N: The end of another chapter. It kind of makes me sad. Oh well. Thank you for reading. Reviews are lovely! Love, Kat_

PS: The term 'leazeazel' means 'Damn!' in Hebrew.  
PSS: Zzzzzzzzzzzzz. -Z  
PSSS: Hush little baby, don't say a word. Daddy's gonna buy you...an old T-Bird...Yeah, that works. -T


	2. Pretty Baby

_A/N: Mmks. So, after the last chapter, I rethought the whole, "Twelve Week Maternity Leave." I looked it up and if you wish, you can request that much, but your position is not reserved. Well, Ziva needs that job. So, I changed it to six weeks. You'll see. It makes sense. I promise. _

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I don't own graham crackers._

* * *

I wake up a little after midnight and look around groggily. I have only been asleep for a little over two hours, and already I'm feeling somewhat rejuvenated. Tony sits to my left, dozing with his neck bent onto a pillow. In the corner, I see the figure of my boss. He is simply watching me, and when he catches me looking at him, he nods his head slightly.

"Where is…?" I begin to ask, before trailing off.

"Carmyn? Nurse took her," he says simply. "They brought you some graham crackers." As he said, there are four packets of graham crackers sitting on my bedside table, along with a full pitcher of water.

"Oh," I murmur. "I see." I try to reach over and retrieve a packet, but am too far away. Tony jerks in his sleep and I glance at him before returning to my previous task of inching toward them. My muscles are sore. I let out a little sigh and then see Gibbs rise and make his way over. He silently picks up one of the packets and opens it before giving it to me. "Thank you…"

He just nods and takes one for himself. Crinkling the wrapper, he murmurs, "Carmyn. Nice name."

"We thought it would blend our backgrounds better than other names we had on the table," I say with a nod. "'Natania' was one of them. Tony suggested Natalia, but it reminded me of my sister." The last few words come out as a sort of sad sigh that I do not attempt to cover.

Gibbs is quiet for a moment before saying, "Y'know, Abby'd make a damn good aunt. I know you miss your sister, just like I miss Kelly and Shannon, but it's all going to work out the way it's supposed to." He bites the graham cracker. It makes little sound or crunch, and I know that it is a bit stale. My boss doesn't make a face or grumble about it, however, but continues chewing as though nothing is wrong with it.

"Abby would make a fantastic aunt, Gibbs…There is just that piece of me that wishes Talia were still alive." I play with the packet in my hands and then nibble on a graham cracker. Mine are fresher. "So, I still have my job, right?"

"Of course." Gibbs nods. "Why're you out for twelve weeks, though?"

"I was told I was only given six …"

"Tony said you'd be out for twelve weeks. Not sure I can do much if you're out that long."

I shake my head. "Perhaps he made some sort of deal. But I do not want to be out that long, Gibbs. I only need six weeks. I promise."

Gibbs says nothing for a while but chews his stale graham crackers. Finally he states, "I told Tony this and I'll tell you the same thing. If you ever need anything, just call."

"Thank you, Gibbs."

_I may just take advantage of that._

* * *

I bring Ziva and Carmyn home a few days later, or at least to Ziva's house. In the time she was in the hospital, I'd managed to move some of my stuff into her guest room, and set up the nursery the way we agreed. Fifteen minutes after getting our baby settled into her crib, the monitor set up per the box directions, we are called by her wailing.

Ziva sighs. "It would not last forever. The silence." Carmyn is a quiet baby; a ton of attitude, like both of her parents, but she goes about it quietly. As Ziva stands to go check on her, she casts me a look that clearly says, "Get off your ass and help me."

"Nope," I agree, trailing her into the nursery. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"Sh," she coos as she hurries through the door of the nursery, "_Eima hayah po. _Mommy is here." Ziva crosses to stand next to the crib and picks Carmyn up, cradling the baby in her arms and then carrying her over to the rocking chair in the corner. "_When you dream of Paradise, and the paradise it brings, remember: O, your heart is full of wings…_" she sings softly. After a few minutes of singing, Carmyn's eyes drift closed, and Ziva just sits there, holding her.

I am in awe, leaning against the doorframe. Not wanting to wake up our daughter, I wordlessly cross to them both, press my lips to the crown of Ziva's head, and leave the room. The guest bedroom is down the hallway, and as I make my way down the hall, I hear Carmyn let out a shrill cry and Ziva shushing her.

While I slip my jeans off and pull on my pajama pants, I listen to Ziva talking to Carmyn and my heart warms.

"Shh, _Tinoket_. _Eima hayah po_, I am here, stop crying." Carmyn _does_ stop for a moment but then starts up again. "Okay, miss Carmyn; this is how this is going to work. You have your father's stubbornness. Therefore, I am going to deal with you the way I deal with him."

I raise my eyebrows and halt in the middle of pulling my shirt over my head, eyes trained on the speaker. _Deal with me?_

"Now, you can scream at me all you would like, but we have been together for nine months now. I would consider that a rather long time. Your father, Tony, and I have known each other since 2005. That is a long time, too. And much has happened since then. Obviously."

That recalls a lot of memories. Undercover for the first time. Then, that one time—I chuckle remembering it—that we were investigating a woman's bedroom after she had been attacked on camera. Damn, she was hot. But, regardless, I was looking through a drawer and found a vibrating device…doesn't take too much imagination to figure out what it was, looking back on it…and I couldn't get it to turn off. Ziva did.

Oh, the images.

I tune myself back into Ziva's monologue. "Therefore, Miss Carmyn, it will fare you well to know that I do not give up. I love you, and that is all that matters. I will be firm, but know that it is in love. I will never put you through what my father put me through. Just know that, while your father is dense…he always means well." _Always._

* * *

I somehow got from the rocking chair to my bed, with the covers tucked in around me, and the faint tingle of Tony's lips on my forehead. I must have fallen asleep talking to Carmyn, and Tony took pity on me and carried me into my room.

When I wake up, to the gentle _whoosh_ of the sea against rocks, I blink once or twice to get a grasp my bearings. "Tony?" I murmur, sitting upright. Around the corner he comes into my room, carrying a tray with some food on it and a rose in a crystal vase. I can smell Jasmine tea permeating from a mug. "Tony, you shoul—"

"Shh," he whispers, resting the tray on the bed to my right. "Carmyn fell asleep just after breakfast."

"You fed her? Wait, she woke up, and I did not hear her?" Panic rises within me. "Oh, God, did I hear her but not wake up? Is she okay? She is not sick, is she? Her temperature is normal?"

Tony presses his index finger to my lips. "Ziva, calm down. She woke up, I fed her. No big deal. You're tired. You need rest, too."

"But … but I am her _mother_, Tony. Her mother!" I groan. "I should be able to know these things _before_ they happen!"

He takes me by the shoulders. "Okay, first of all, you're not Super Woman. You're hot, and strong, and you've been to Hell and back and survived to tell the tale, but you're _not_ a Super. Therefore," he says firmly, but gently, "you need to cut yourself some slack. I _am_ her father. I have just as much responsibility over her as you do, or, I should have. Carmyn is fine. She's out like a light, and she drank her bottle just as hungrily as a baby cow. She. Is. Fine."

I let out an exaggerated sigh and pick up a piece of toast between my forefinger and thumb. A thought strikes me and I look up into his eyes. There is doubt and a little bit of fear in them.

"You called him, didn't you?" I accuse. "Why did you call him?"

"Look, okay? She wouldn't stop crying, and I didn't want to wake you up." Tony backs away with his hands out in front of him, as if to protect himself from me with an unseen force. "I didn't _want_ to call him. Really, I swear, I didn't! I just … I didn't know what else to do! Gibbs said that whenever we needed him, to call. I felt that this warranted a call to him …"

"Anthony DiNozzo." My eyes narrow considerably, and then, noticing his terrified expression, I shoot him a small smile. "Good work."

I pause and place a forkful of scrambled egg into my mouth. Around it, I mumble, "But next time, wake me up. We will learn together."

_Hello again, Education. It is I, Ziva Davíd, and I would like to welcome you back into my life. This time, we have a new partner! His name is Anthony DiNozzo and he is the father of my baby. Teach us well. Love, Me._

* * *

_A/N: **Note**: '__Tinoket' means 'baby' in Hebrew. Well, 'female baby.' That is all._


	3. Suffer For Me

_A/N: I am **so** sorry for the horrible delay. School got to be a little crazy, and it still is, but I thought I'd run this off for you so...here it is! I hope you enjoy it. _

**_Disclaimer: _**_I don't own babies. Or toast._

* * *

"No!" I groan from within sleep, jerking myself awake. I look around haphazardly, and see Tony sitting next to me on the bed. "I am sorry. Did I wake you?"

He shakes his head. "I don't even sleep in here, Zeev."

"Oh. Right." I blink sleep from my eyes and yawn. "How did you know I was—"

"—having a nightmare? You were loud," Tony murmurs, looking at me analytically. "You okay?" I nod curtly and try to roll off the bed, only stopping when my abdomen protests. I must have grimaced visibly because Tony places a gentle hand on my shoulder to push me back down onto the bed. "No, you're not, and I'm not talking about the dream. Sore?"

"Yes. I am sore. Okay?" I sneer. "_You_ try pushing a watermelon out of something roughly the size of a carrot, and then tell me if you feel any better than I do."

Tony holds his hands up in surrender. "Hey, now, I was just asking a question. You've got no idea how much respect I have for you."

I shrug, biting into a cold, tough piece of toast. "Yech." Tossing it back down onto the plate, I murmur, "I am sorry."

"For what?" he asks, collecting the plate from my bedside table. "Nonetheless, you're forgiven."

"I keep snapping at you. First about baby responsibilities and now about something you didn't even do. I should not take advantage of you." Tony leaves and for a moment, I fear that he is actually upset with me. He returns a few minutes later with a large mug of tea.

After a long silence, he says, "Zeev, you're not taking advantage of me."

"But I am!" I argue, setting the mug down on the table. "I just _assume_ you will forgive me, so it does not matter how I treat you, but it _does_, and that is wrong of me." I pause to take his hand. "So wrong."

He squeezes my hand slightly and leans forward to kiss the tip of my nose. "Oh, Zee-vah. I can't stay mad at _you_."

I look up at him with a slackened jaw. "Why not?"

"Mm, well, you see, there's a funny thing about us."

* * *

"Oh, Zee-vah. I can't stay mad at _you_," I reassure, settling myself on the edge of her bed a little closer to her.

She just stares at me in confusion. "Why not?"

_'Oh, I don't know, because I love you?' __Shit, shit, shit, shit…Cover, Tony, cover!_

"Mm, well, you see, there's a funny thing about us," I tell her, examining her hand. Yes, the ring will definitely look _stunning_ near the Christmas lights. "I…care about you."

Her eyes narrow just the tiniest bit and already I know I'm up a creek without a damn paddle. Again. "Do you, now?"

"Yes, Zeev, I do, and you know what? I'm not going anywhere."

She nods, as though I'm a kid or something. "Duly noted."

"And, um…"

"Yes, Tony?"

The look of pure naiveté adorning her face is enough to send my brain into overdrive, and as much as I want to just jump onto the bed and kiss her, I can't. I know I can't, and therefore I won't. But I want to! Oh, how I want to. _Damn it all, anyway._

"Merry Christmas." With that, I run out of the room and to the living room, where I sit and curse my existence for almost an hour before Carmyn's baby monitor starts screeching at me. I hurry into her bedroom to find her staring at the door, crying up a storm, with the blanket somehow worked down around her ankles. "Oh, no, Carmyn…" I admonish gently, almost cooing. Who would've thought that I, Anthony DiNozzo Jr., would _ever in a million years_…coo. Nevertheless, I pick her up and, supporting her neck, hold her close to my chest.

Carmyn shoots me a glare that obviously says, "I'm hungry, and cold, and I'm pissed at you."

As if she could respond anyway, I answer her glare with, "Oh, my dear girl, you certainly inherited your mother's impatience, didn't you?" All I get is an eyebrow-raise and a soft punch on the sternum as she stretches out. "Let's get you some yummy formula!"

Suddenly, a pertinent "No!" echoes from Ziva's bedroom and she is, in a matter of seconds, in the room with what appears to be a pump of some sort in her hand. "Leave her with me, and then you can do whatever you want." I look at her but say nothing, allowing her to cross the room and sit in her rocking chair. Handing her Carmyn, I wonder for a fleeting moment what she's going to do with the pump until I see her pulling at the sleeve of her top.

I take that as a signal for me to leave. Quickly.

"Where are you going?" Ziva asks, and I don't face her.

"Um," I mumble, "kitchen?"

She gives a small chuckle and then states, "No, you are going to stay right here."

"What?" I groan. "Why?"

"Because, Tony, you care about me and the funny thing about us is that _'you aren't going anywhere._'"

Turning around, I lean against the doorknob. "Actually, if I remember correctly, I said that the funny thing about us is that I _care_ about you and—what are you doing?"

"Please, Tony," she scoffs, staring me down, "as if you have never seen a woman's chest before."

This is true. "Well, I have, but not so…Um…"

"Hooked up to odd machinery? Yes. I understand." And she does. I can tell by her voice.

Such strange things women put themselves through.

* * *

"Wait, you're going to put that in a bottle? And feed it to our _daughter_?"

I stare at Tony for a moment before saying slowly, "Yes, Tony, it is referred to as _breast-_feeding for a reason."

"I just…did we agree on that?"

"Mother's decision."

"Oh…"

"There are special nutrients and hormones in breast-milk that helps the baby grow and develop the way she should, especially her brain."

"Oh."

I frown slightly and feel my eyebrows pull together. "Is there a problem? Can you say nothing other than 'oh'?" I do not mean to sound mean, but I am concerned that this has scarred him for life.

"Nope. I'm good. I just … Zeev, it's just a little disconcerting to see … you … And think about her … Oh, God." With that, he leaves the room, escaping just before I need him to heat the bottle.

"Tony?"

He hurries back into the nursery and grabs the bottle from me before running back out.

_Men. They never do get used to this, do they?_

* * *

_A/N: In my opinion, Ziva, no, they don't. Oh well. I hope you enjoyed it! I'm writing a little eight- or nine-chapter fic about Chanukkah. So I hopefully will have something up on that soon-ish. Enjoyyyyyy. (And I hope you had a fantastic Thanksgiving!) Love, Kat._

PS: Nom nom nom. -Carmyn.  
PSS: HOW can she drink that stuff? -T  
PSSS: ...I don't know, Tony. Tell me how you drink sugared coffee? -Z  
PSSSS: The both of you-I think I'm becoming a babysitter... -G  
PSSSSS: Yup. -T&Z


End file.
